


Misaligned

by AideStar



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Fluff, Hurt Peter Parker, Irondad, Peter Parker Whump, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Torture Porn, Trans Peter Parker, Whump, casual trans rep here, not as bad as you’d expect from me though, set just after Homecoming, suffocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 22:24:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18647287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AideStar/pseuds/AideStar
Summary: Peter always takes care of himself. It’s not like he can go to a hospital, and now that he’s somewhere between an Avenger and a vigilante he can’t exactly go to someone else when he gets hurt. So Peter takes care of himself, his bones and cuts heal quickly anyway.He helps himself, even if he’s helping himself into an early grave.ORPeter manages to get his ribs broken and they heal wrong, leading to further serious injury until Tony finally finds out.





	Misaligned

**Author's Note:**

> Ayy sorry if this is terribly OOC. Listen. Uh. Peter is trans. And self destructive oops. I love himb. He deserves better. Also the trans Peter fics here are kinda lacking, so I’m just gonna add this. Maybe I’ll write more about my trans Peter HC idk. Pls comment and tell me if you liked it aaa,,

In the weeks following his fight with the Vulture, Peter had noticed a sharp decline in the amounts of crime to be stopped in Queens. Sure there had been the occasional robbery, mugging, theft, but nowhere near the amount he was used to. Mr. Stark had called it the Superhero Effect—crime always dropped dramatically after a big public takedown. It made sense, but Peter was still antsy and paranoid about the possibility he was simply missing something as he swung overhead. Maybe there was more crime in other areas of the city since the bad guys knew he stuck to Queens? He knew there were other heroes working in other Burroughs, but they usually patrolled at night and Peter tended to patrol earlier…

“Karen? Can you widen your scan radius?” Peter asked, swinging to a stop onto a nearby building.

“Of course. Widening radius by 5 miles…” Karen replied. After a second Peter’s interface lit up, indicating suspicious activity just outside of Queens. He couldn’t help but grin in relief.

“A potential mugging has been located approximately 5 minutes away.” Karen voiced, but Peter was already on his way.

He swung over quickly, coming to a quiet stop to peer into the alleyway below. There was a scrawny guy pressed back into the wall at one end and two sinister looking goons blocking any escape. One guy was wielding a small pocket knife, while the other slapped a dented metal bat against his palm threateningly.

“You gonna give us the wallet or do we have to take it from your dead body?” The knife guy called, stepping in closer. Okay, he was pretty sure he knew where this was going now.

Peter shot a web straight at knife guy’s feet, sticking him in place, before he leapt down between the goons and the shaking man. Closer up he could tell the muggers were going after a guy who could only be 17 at most, causing Peter to huff with annoyance.

“You know, it’s not very safe to point weapons at other people.” He quipped, kicking the blade out of knife guy’s hand as it was swung towards him.

“This is none of your business, Spider-Man.” Knife guy spat, trying to swing for Peter’s head. He dodged easily, noticing the 17 year old’s quick escape as he distracted the muggers.

With a satisfied smirk he kicked the knife further away and webbed it to the wall, dodging another badly aimed jab. However, he’d managed to lose track of the bat guy long enough to feel a hard wack on his side.

His chest lit up in pain and he rolled to the side, managing to keep his composure as he reassessed the scene. Knife guy was pulling at the webs on his feet as bat guy smirked, stepping towards Peter. Luckily the guy was big and his movements slow, allowing Peter to dodge the next swing. He winced as he moved, but the adrenaline made the pain easy to ignore for now. With a well timed shot he webbed the guy’s hand and bat to the wall, then his feet to the ground. Once Peter was sure they couldn’t escape he stood and shook his head.

“Did you guys really think you could mug someone a foot outside of Queens without me noticing?” He laughed, tying the two up more securely before he notified the police. Once he was confident they couldn’t escape, he gave a salute and swung out of the alley, back into his normal patrol area.

“Peter, you’ve sustained some injuries you’ll need to attend to.” Karen reminded him as his energy wore off. He came to a stop on another roof, sitting down for a minute to take stock.

He gingerly place his hand on his side, wincing as he touched his ribs. The ache was beginning to turn into a sharper pain as he breathed, and he groaned in annoyance.

“Karen, can you run a diagnostic check?” He asked, gently feeling over his ribs.

“You have three broken ribs and heavy bruising. You’ll need to seek medical attention. Should I call Tony Stark?”

“No, no! Don’t call Mr. Stark! I’ll take care of it myself, it’s not that bad.” Peter assured hurriedly. He could feel the deformed ribs on his left side, but breathing wasn’t that bad and he knew from experience his bones healed pretty quick. If he went home now he’d be fine in the morning, so reluctantly he stood, dusted off his suit, and swung home earlier than usual.

“Peter, not seeking medical assistance could lead to further complications.” Karen reminded him as he slid open his window and crawled into his room. The sun was just beginning to set in the distance, painting his room in a soft golden light. He sighed, taking off his mask to get rid of the nagging. He could take care of himself, he always did. Karen must not remember the stitches he gave himself last week, or the broken ankle last month. Or the injuries after his fight with the Vulture. Peter shivered, yeah, let’s not think about that…

He carefully stripped out of his suit and into some PJs before joining May for dinner. It was easy to hide the now throbbing pain in his ribs, he’d felt much worse. When he finally turned in for the night he took off his shirt and stared at himself in the mirror. 

With a wince he managed to pull off his binder, side screaming as he reached his arms over his head. Once it was gone he pointedly stared at only his bruised side, pulling gently at the skin. He’d always been a thin kid, his rib cage and spine showing before he’d begun to gain muscle. Now only his ribs poked out, meaning he could feel and see the way his ribs were unnaturally bent in. He kept his breathing even as he inspected, quickly deciding it wasn’t bad enough to bother anyone with, before flopping into bed for the night. He’d be fine in the morning.

 

Except he wasn’t fine in the morning. With a groan, Peter awoke about a minute before his alarm was set to go off, realizing he’d rolled onto his bad side during the night. When he sat up he sucked in a sharp breath, then quickly coughed it out in pain as something pressed into his lung. He yanked up his shirt and stared in horror at the perfectly healed skin but bent in bones. He poked the injury and found nothing moved, but pain spiked through his chest. Instead of resetting in his sleep, the bones had fused together in a very wrong shape.

Peter felt his stomach flip and quickly dropped his shirt to cover the gross sight. He nearly yelped when his alarm went off, fumbling over and turning it off, trying to figure out how to breathe. He couldn’t take a full breath, barely a half breath honestly. He felt cold sweat bead at his neck and shut his eyes tight, trying to breath as normally as possible to stave off the panic. He didn’t have any time to think about this right now, he could deal with it after school.

Peter began to get ready, mind buzzing. He eyed his binder cautiously, thinking over his options. There was no way he could go to school without it, he didn’t even own bras anymore and he was pretty stealth. He couldn’t skip or fake sick, he was a terrible liar. He didn’t want to skip either, so…

Peter grit his teeth and after an agonizing few minutes finally managed to get on the binder. He was used to the pressure and comfort the binder usually brought, learning to breathe with it on years ago. But with his ribs as they were now, and the binder constantly adding pressure to the deformation, it was all he could do to suck in enough air. He felt lightheaded, not just from the discomfort and pain, but likely from the lack of air. After a few minutes of standing in the middle of his room, hand gripping his dresser, he was confident he could manage. Peter slung on his bag and bolted, already running late.

School was draining, and for the first time in ages Peter found himself too distracted by his injuries to fully pay attention. It didn’t really matter of course, Peter was ahead in class and nothing important was going on today, but his friends had noticed his inattentiveness and were giving him looks. Peter shrugged off their questions, just saying he was tired, and if anyone noticed the way he favored his right arm they didn’t say anything. The day seemed to drag on and on, and Peter had to excuse himself at one point to take stock in the bathroom.

His breathing was shallow and he looked paler than usual, but otherwise he was doing alright. He managed to get through the day and back home, feeling much more tired than usual. Peter decided he would take a nap before patrol today, allowing himself to fall into bed.

 

In the weeks following his injury, Peter found his breathing getting more and more strained and the pain getting worse. He wasn’t sleeping well, the pain made him nauseous, and he could hardly get half a breath anymore. His hands had begun to shake and he started getting headaches. When on patrol he was able to mask it well enough, but he had to stop and take breaks to catch his breath and prevent the dizziness that started to creep in.

Karen had been reminding him frequently of his injury and the effects it was having, which Peter tuned out. He could deal with this himself, even if he had to rebreak his bones to do it. He did some research on misaligned bones, frustrated with his luck that this had happened. He’d broken ribs before, why did it have to heal wrong this time?

He swung through his patrol route on autopilot, thinking things over in silence. He’d been leaving his daily reports as usual, sometimes getting in touch with Happy but mainly just the voicemail box. He sighed, noticing it was almost time to turn in for the night.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his side and he yelped, hand flying to grip his ribs. He couldn’t breathe, and after a moment he realized he needed to shoot his next web, lifting his left arm to do so in a panic. Something shifted at the sudden movement, and again when his bad side took the brunt of his weight on the swing, so he only had time to blink before he slammed into the brick wall ahead hard. He fell, and before he could even react he’d already hit the fire escape.

It took him a moment to get his bearings, blinking up as pain shot through his side and back. He groaned, trying to sit up, but there was a metallic crunch as the rusty platform he’d landed on detached from the wall. He gasped, feeling himself fall again. There was a rush of air as he shot a web up to catch himself. His head suddenly smacked into something hard and there was a loud crash before he lost consciousness.

 

He woke up slowly. There was a loud ringing in his ears and his hands felt numb as he blinked. The world was tilted slightly, and he rolled his head back to look around. He could see the warped metal above from where he’d broken the fire escape, realizing he must have fallen at least three stories. He absentmindedly moved to check his side, hand feeling the the ribs there, then trailing to—

His head shot up, ringing clearing as he saw a small, twisted bit of metal sticking out of his right side, just above his hip. Pain came flooding in and he bit his lip hard, hands balling into fists. Karen’s voice was in his ears, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying as his vision swam. He felt dizzy, realizing he probably hit his head on the dumpster to his right, judging from the sizable dent in its lip.

“...eter. Peter, I have notified Tony Stark of your location. Your vitals are dropping.” Karen repeated, and Peter tried to get enough air to reply.

“No.. you can’t tell him.” He wheezed. Crap, this was bad. He tried to calm down, tried to get enough air and organize his thoughts enough to respond properly.

“K-Karen, diagnostics..” he managed, trying to push himself up on his right arm.

“Your left lung is punctured, left arm dislocated, there is a metal rod piercing through your right side causing internal bleeding, you have 2 misaligned and 1 broken rib, and you sustained head trauma during impact. Movement could cause further damage.” Karen warns as Peter finally gets himself into a propped position. He wheezes, pain flaring with each breath, and looks around.

He managed to fall into a small alleyway and it seems dark enough that no one would have seen. He lifts up his mask a bit, trying to breathe.

“How.. long was I out?” Peter asks, staring down at the rod in his stomach.

“About 3 seconds.” Karen replies. “Tony Stark is on his way.”

No no no, that’s not happening. He’s fine, he can deal with this.

Peter feels around the rod, thankful to find it’s short and detached, allowing him to untangle from the rest of the fire escape. He scoots to the dumpster, left arm hanging limp and shooting with pain as he moves. He’ll be fine, he just needs to get home so he can do some first aid, that’s all. He can manage this, he’s been stabbed before. Yes, with knifes, and they didn’t pierce all the way through him and were clean and didn’t cause internal bleeding, but he could manage this. And sure, his lung was punctured but that would heal, right? He just needed to get home…

He pushed himself back against the wall and tried to edge his way into a standing position. After a minute of jostling his left arm and feeling the metal in him catch on the brick sickeningly, he was upright. He couldn’t catch his breath, leaning hard on the wall behind him and gripping his side. His vision was wobbly and tilted, black dots scattering through it. He felt something hot drip down his neck.

Before he could think about it any longer, he stumbled forward, right arm supporting him against the wall as he slowly left the alley. He couldn’t take the street of course, so he slowly walked through further back alleys, abandoned and dark. He couldn’t bother Mr. Stark with this, he was too busy. Peter knew how to handle himself.

“Peter, you need to stop moving, you’re exacerbating your injuries.” Karen chimed in, and Peter grit his teeth.

“Peter, Tony Stark will be there in approximately one minute. Please stop moving.”

He sucked in a painful breath and kept going. He wasn’t going to get the suit taken away, not again. He had to prove he could take care of things himself. He had to…

Peter tripped and fell to his knees, coughing harshly. His lungs were on fire and he felt like he was drowning, blood falling as he coughed. He couldn’t help the way he tried to breathe now, desperate for air but only triggering more coughing. The ringing came back and his head hit the ground as he grew dizzier, screwing his eyes shut. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe! He kept trying but suddenly it felt as if his lungs weren’t moving at all, his body shutting down. Through the ringing he thought he heard something else, an alarm or a shout, but before he could make sense of it he passed out.

 

Tony hadn’t been expecting to get an emergency call from the kid’s suit at 9pm on a Wednesday night, that’s for sure. Ever since Peter took down the Vulture he’d been keeping a closer eye on him, but work had gotten more demanding recently and he hadn’t checked in for a while. Happy had assured him that the kid was doing fine, still sending nightly reports and not getting into trouble, but knowing Peter he could have been taking down a major villain for all they knew.

That’s why Tony was startled, but not surprised, when he got a sudden emergency alert. He put down his tools and rolled back a bit from his desk, checking his phone. What surprised him was the status report he got. It was strange, especially coupled with the video data he’d gotten from the suit. Peter had just.. fallen. Pretty hard too. Tony quickly suited up, anxiously continuing to check the vitals as he flew over.

“Sir, Peter’s location has changed. Updating route.” Friday alerted him.

”How the hell is he moving?” Tony asked, watching his screen as Peter’s heart rate soared.

“It appears he is walking on his own.” Friday responded.

As Tony landed in the alley he’d been direct to he peered around, tense. He expected a fight, but no one was there. He couldn’t see the kid either. He looked down the alley to his left, noticing the twisted metal on the ground from the fallen fire escape, then the drops of blood on the ground by his feet. His heart beat hard as he followed the trail of blood down the alley, eventually seeing the small crumpled form.

Tony raced towards it and paled at the sight, kneeling down, mind blank. Jesus Christ. Peter looked close to death, his chest barely moving as he breathed, blood pooled around him.

“Friday, how’s he doing?” Tony said, voice wavering slightly.

“His injuries are serious. He needs immediate medical attention.”

“Fuck,” Tony breathed, feeling himself begin to panic. Peter was not safe to move like this, but he didn’t have another option. “Friday, make sure the medbay is ready for us.”

Peter winced, pain coursing through his side. His eyes shot open, the bright room blinding him for a second as he panicked. Something heavy pressed down on his shoulder and his eyes shot over to land on a tired and angry looking Tony Stark. He took in a painful, shaky breath and averted his eyes, going limp on the bed. He felt like shit.

“Oh, Peter, you’re awake.” said another voice, and Peter noticed Dr. Banner standing behind Tony. Bruce gave Tony a stern look and they seemed to communicate silently before Tony huffed, stepping back a bit.

“H-hey, Dr. Banner…” Peter greeted nervously.

“Parker, care to explain what the hell you were doing hiding injuries from me?” Tony interrupted before Bruce could speak. Peter shrunk back into his hospital bed.

Instead of answering he took in his surroundings. He was in a corner of the medbay, hooked up with a chest tube and IV, bandaged up pretty heavily. He fiddled with his sheet nervously.

“I didn’t want to bother you..” Peter finally replied, shoulders hunching.

“Pete, you can’t just break bones and expect me not to notice.” Tony huffed, arms crossed like an angry parent.

“Well, actually, he’s been doing just that.” Bruce cut in, but quieted at the annoyed glares he got from Peter and Tony. He raised his hands placatingly, sighing.

“Peter, as an Avenger you have access to the facilities here whenever you need them. We know you can’t go to a normal hospital without risking your identity, but you don’t have to do your own first aid anymore.” Bruce went on. “There’s evidence on your x-rays that show you’ve broken your bones quite a few times, and I’m sure you’ve been stitching yourself up despite the lack of scars evident.”

Peter stared at his hands, feeling like a child. He huffed and saw Tony shift next to him.

“Sorry.”

“You could have died, kid.” Tony sighed, and Peter felt his throat grow sore.

“S-sorry, Mr. Stark…”

It’s silent for a moment and Peter grips his shaking hands.

“Listen, kid.” Tony sat by the bed and put a hand on Peter’s arm. “I… know I haven’t been around lately. I’m sorry about that…”

Peter shrugged. “You’re busy, it’s fine. I’m not exactly your responsibility.”

“Yeah, but you are. I gave you the suit, you’re an Avenger now. I need to be looking out for you.” Tony sighed and Peter looked over. Tony looked tired. “I’ve been meaning to invite you over to work with me. You know, if you want to.”

Peter’s eyebrows shot up and Tony laughed.

“A-are you sure, Mr. Stark? I don’t want to bother you—“

“Kid, I need you around, okay?” Tony laughed.

“Yeah, he’s getting old, yknow.” Bruce commented, earning a glare from Tony and a laugh out of Peter.

“So, what’s it gonna be? Think you can find some time to swing by every week to work with me?” Tony offered and Peter nodded eagerly.

“Great. No more hiding injuries then! You come straight here or call me if you get hurt, understood?”

“Yes, understood.” Peter smiled. Tony pat his shoulder, looking relieved.


End file.
